Three's Company
by Appointment
Summary: Grimmjow and Ulquiorra had never really been too good of friends. – college au. grimmhime, ulquihime, espada lovin'. rated for language and other teenage shenanigans.
1. I

**ah, so, here it is! a brand new bleach fic - a university AU that will try its best to be canon-compliant with the character's personalities. you will find no ooc here! it'll mostly be a series of connected one-shots, not a multi-chap one theme story. leave a review :3**

* * *

Ulquiorra sat at the small wooden desk in his room, staring blankly at a paper, pen in hand. He twirled the writing utensil with his fingers – three rotations to be exact – before taking a quick glance at the clock. It was only 6 o'clock, yet he felt his eyelids growing heavier. He reclined in his chair momentarily, before regaining his posture and lowering the pen to his notepad.

"In Grendel, solipsism is incorporated twice," he read aloud, following his pen, "We empathise with his solitary existence, and while –"

"_FUCKIN' HELL, NELIEL!"_

Ulquiorra dropped his pen in exasperation. It seemed that Nnoitra and Neliel were fighting in the room next door; it was nothing new. They always fought – in fact, this was probably the most civil they had been in days. But ever since Neliel had been coming over to their frat house instead of Nnoitra to her sorority (due to a most unfortunate incident with Cirucci) their fighting had become more bothersome.

"_Just because I have a FRIEND who isn't one of your friends, does NOT mean I am cheating on you! Where did you even get that I had feelings for him from? Good God, you are SO chauvinistic!"_

From what Ulquiorra understood, Neliel had been close friends with Ichigo for a short while in high-school, and had drifted apart before they started at LNU. As of recent, they had been studying comparative literature with one another.

"_Fuckin' right, Strawberry's just your friend. Why can't you check out those dumb books with me then, huh? What's so damn special about carrot top?"_

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. Back to work. He would get this paper done, and their petty fight would not interrupt him. "And while a lonesome existence is notably one of the most basic solipsist beliefs, Grendel continues…"

"_His name is Ichigo! And that's exactly why, Nnoitra! They are not dumb books! You can be so petty at times!"_

Ulquiorra could envision Neliel's face, growing more vermillion until her bright red birthmark was invisible. He heard Neliel's footsteps carry off.

He felt relieved as the house returned to its normal ambience once more, and continued on his paper. Things were going along swimmingly, until he heard the footsteps return followed by a slamming door. Apparently, Neliel hadn't finished with Nnoitra. This time, thankfully, they spoke in softer, muted tones. He wasn't in the mood to listen to more of their foolishness.

"Solipsism was first noted with the Greek pre-Socratic scholar Gorgias of Leontini, who was 'quoted […] as having stated: Nothing exists; Even if something exists, Nothing can be known about it; and even if something could be known about it, knowledge about it can't be communicated to..."

Ulquiorra's train of thought crashed once more when his ears perked up to a different sound. Odd noises…

Like heavy breathing.

Moaning.

Ulquiorra shrank in his chair, his normally unperturbed face now vexed.

"Knowledge about it can't be communicated to –"

Neliel was practically screaming by now. Ulquiorra, who had now given up on his valiant effort to ignore the two, stood from his desk and exited the room. He stood in front of Nnoitra's door, which had a bold, black "STAY OUT" emblazoned on it. He knocked on the door politely first, but as the vulgar sound from behind the door grew louder, his patience ran short.

"Would you keep it down in there, filth? Some of us are trying to study."

Behind the door, there was a scuffle.

"Oh, fuck off, emo bitch. I'm trying to get laid!" yelled Nnoitra from past the closed door. _Slap._ "Ouch, fuck!"

Shortly, the door opened slowly, and Neliel poked her head out before her body followed suit. She closed the door behind her, buttoning up her shirt with one hand.

"Um, ahem," she said meekly, "Sorry about that, Ulquiorra. I was, ah, just leaving."

Nnoitra stepped out behind her, only in his underwear. "Couldn't have gone to the coffee shop or whatever? Good place to write your sad shit emo poetry instead, huh?" He reached out to slap Neliel's behind as she walked away, which she promptly replied with a sideways glare.

"The coffee shop. What a pleasant suggestion." Ulquiorra waved Nnoitra off with one hand before turning towards the staircase. "Rent out a motel space next time. Some people are actually here to get an education, instead of drinking and lusting our life away."

With that, he trudged down the stairs, and left Nnoitra alone in the hall. He scoffed.

"Pft, to think – people actually _study_ here?"

Ulquiorra pulled his coat out of the closet at the foot of the staircase, and readied himself for the cool fall weather.

"Where're ya going?"

Ulquiorra turned to face the shirtless, muscular bluenette behind him.

"Out, Grimmjow."

"Yo, I need to go pick up my graded papers. Wanna come for the ride?" he replied, pulling a white t-shirt off the stair banister. He sniffed it briefly.

"Not in the slightest, actually. I'd rather walk." Ulquiorra glowered at him, and bent to put his shoes on. "Besides, I've had quite enough of your "Beastly Boys" music."

"Pft, whatever. And it's _Beastie_ Boys."


	2. II

"Fifty four?!"

The bluenette spat the words incredulously, his graded paper crushed in a firm grip. Professor Ukitake shifted in his chair.

"I'm sorry, Grimmjow," he began, recollecting the documents on his desk, "but if you want a better mark, you're going to need to start writing your theses weeks before the deadline, not _minutes_."

He ground his teeth before scrunching up the paper in finality, and throwing it in the trash bin next to the door during his exit.

Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez needed a drink. He sighed moodily, running a hand through his hair while stomping off to the parking lot. He got into his car brusquely, ignoring his seatbelt and turned on the ignition. As he backed out of the space impatiently, he saw a silver flash in his rear view mirror, just before the jolt, and the audible crunch of metal.

"Shit!" he yelled, slamming his hands on the wheel in defeat. "Mother of fuck!"

He stepped out of the car, letting his temper fly.

"Who the hell taught you how to drive? Blind as a god damn bat!" he yelled, though it was directed at no one particularly.

Grimmjow couldn't believe they'd just go hurtling through a parking lot. Hell, he was a bad driver, but even he had a little more common sense. He was gauging the damage when he heard her car door slam.

He swung around brusquely, a savage look on his face he hoped would scare the shit out of her. He was preparing a heated narrative when he stopped, frozen in his tracks.

God, she was _hot_ – petite, with a too tight t-shirt under a leather jacket and long ginger hair that fell just over her brow. He felt an inexplicable tightness in his jeans.

"Oh! Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I'm usually more careful!" she said, agitated. Grimmjow took silent note of how her voluptuous chest jiggled when she brought her hand up to her face. She pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen from her purse. "Here, I'll give you my information."

"Er, uh, don't worry about it," he said, still eyeing her. "No need to get the insurance companies involved."

"As long as you're okay," she said light-heartedly, "If you don't want to turn in a claim, I'm sure we could work something out."

Grimmjow smirked. "Grimmjow," he said, extending a hand. "Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez. How about dinner and a movie?"

The girl blushed in response, giggling. "Orihime Inoue. Um, I really have to get to work..." She scribbled her number down on the paper. "Let me know when and where."

With that, they turned back to their cars and she pulled away from the lot, a little more carefully this time. Grimmjow sat in silence, and thought to himself.

"Nice ass, too."

* * *

Orihime rushed into work, tearing off her jacket as she stumbled into the 'Employees Only' zone. Momo Hinamori smiled at her briefly before returning to the espresso machine. Despite her co-worker's kindness, she hadn't worked there long enough to be casually late – a few months, maybe. It was a modest hole-in-the-wall, tucked in the corner of the university's campus. Besides the morning rush, it wasn't always busy, but enough foodies and hipsters came in to keep it running. There were a few regulars – Chizuru, who always tipped Orihime _really_ well, Professor Ichimaru, who simply couldn't stay away from the packaged dried persimmons, and Ulquiorra. Oh, he was dreamy. He was moody, with shaggy black hair and bright green eyes, pale with dark circles.

"Sorry I was late," said Orihime, tying up her apron. "I got into a little fender-bender when I went to drop off my paper."

"That's alright," replied Momo, smiling. She handed her a to-go cup that had already been marked. "Can you take this? I've been meaning to stock the scones."

Orihime nodded before glancing down at the paper cup. _Red-eye, Aizen_. She looked from the cup to find Professor Aizen sitting at a table just across from the counter, reading his files. She was preparing the espresso when she heard the soft _ding_ of the bell above the door. She looked up promptly to glance at the new customer, and her lips curved into a smile when she saw whom it was.

His unruly black hair fell into the high collar of his fall jacket, most of his pale skin concealed. His face stony, a _perma-glare _as Momo liked to call it. She had hardly ever seen his expression change – though sometimes, just hardly, she would catch when his glower would near crack into a smile – usually when he got his coffee. He'd been coming here since the beginning of the new semester, ordering a large dark roast, always alone.

Orihime wasn't really one to flirt, though she would find herself just a little more forward whenever he would enter the store. However, nothing she could do seemed to have an effect on him. He was either completely oblivious to her hair twirling and giggling, or he was good at pretending to be. After some time of him coming to the shop, she had tried to strike up a conversation with him. He had ignored her in the beginning, but after a while, he had started to talk to her, though it was usually very short-lived. The dark, moody, and emotional boy was a fan-favorite, after all.

Orihime's dreamy state was interrupted, as she felt a burning sensation ripple through her hand.

She muttered a curse as she realized that she had been so entranced that she had forgotten all about the coffee she had been making. She finished the drink hurriedly, handing it to Aizen with a smile and an apology before walking over to the front counter.

Momo smirked and made way for Orihime to take over the cash desk. She had become aware of her little crush, and gave Orihime room to work.

The redhead wiped sticky coffee residue from her hands onto her apron, and flashed a smile at Ulquiorra.

"Large dark roast?"

Ulquiorra nodded punctiliously, rummaging around in his pockets for his wallet.

Her smile faltered for a second, before a sudden rush of confidence. She thought back to the cute guy she'd met earlier today. Assembling all of her coolness, she took the black felt pen and wrote her cell-phone number on the side of the cup.

"It seems I've left my wallet at home." said Ulquiorra, blankly.

Orihime smiled and continued to pour the coffee into the cup heedlessly.

"It's on the house." she replied, popping the lid on it. She placed it on the counter delicately.

"Thank you," he responded, grabbing the to-go cup. He took a large sip of it. Orihime watched the brief flash of pleasure that passed Ulquiorra's facial expression as he drank the coffee. She nodded back at him.

As he turned to take his leave, Orihime was almost disappointed he hadn't noticed her number on the other side of the cup. She heard the door jingle once more, assumed he had left, and turned to start stocking the coffee beans.

"I'll call you," she heard his voice say.


	3. III

hey everyone. thanks for the kind reviews. i wish that this could have been longer, but i have been insanely busy this past week. i swear, it's like work work work every day. well, you're not here to read my complaints, so here's the next chapter! _this will have an immediate parallel chapter with orihime and the girls._ and who knew ulquiorra could be so disorganized...

* * *

Grimmjow one-handedly opened the door of his shared campus home, dank air welcoming his olfactory senses as he entered the room. Carrying a 24-pack of beer in the other hand, he looked around the room, greeted by Szayelaporro with a burning joint between his lips directing a curt nod in Grimmjow's direction. Starrk was on the couch next to him, looking thoroughly intoxicated as he sunk into the cushions. Nnoitra didn't acknowledge him; his eyes glued to his online Halo 3 campaign.

"Tesla, you fucking idiot," he barked into the headset, "I said the _Spartan Laser_, dipshit. You're gonna get us killed! Stop camping!"

Grimmjow gestured to the case of beer in his hand with a grin. Nnoitra glanced up from the television momentarily, before deciding to end his online game with Tesla.

"Yo. You never pitch for beer, what gives?" said Nnoitra, taking off his headset. "It's usually _Bubblegum Bush_ over there."

"I told you not to call me that," said Szayel, narrowing his eyes at a self-satisfied Nnoitra. "And Yylfordt has been stealing money from me again, if you _must_ know." He propelled another curl of smoke from his mouth. "I'm glad you came through tonight though. Someone has to take the edge off this dolt." he said, referring to Nnoitra with half-hearted distaste. Starrk giggled, and slouched further into the sofa.

"Bought it to take the edge off of _me_, too. Bumped up my fuckin' car today," said Grimmjow, placing the case on the coffee table. Nnoitra's spidery fingers tore through the cardboard that enveloped the cans. "And I bombed my English research assignment."

"Damn, man," said Starrk, pulling himself off the couch. "How bad did you fail?"

"Fifty four."

"Whiskey it is," he replied, and slinked off into the other room. He returned with a bottle-and-a-half of Jack Daniels, and a couple of shot glasses.

"Where the fuck did you get that from?" demanded Nnoitra. Starrk smirked.

"Secret stash, guys," he replied. "And don't ask. I'm keeping it hidden from you leeches."

"I _did_ meet a pretty hot girl today, though." Grimmjow cracked open his can of beer and took a swig. "Got her number and everything."

"How'd you pull that one off?" asked Szayel, simpering. "She must have been absolutely loopy to have given her number to the likes of you."

"Nah, I thought crazy was your type. How's Cirucci doing, anyways?" asked Grimmjow, grinning. Szayelapporo scowled at Grimmjow's mention of his ex-girlfriend. After a less than amicable split, she had keyed up his car. Szayel refused to do anything about it other than 'bitch like a pussy' (so eloquently put by Nnoitra) which led Nnoitra and Grimmjow to take matters into their own hands – by sneaking into her sorority house, and using her toiletries in the more _unpleasant_ areas of the body. Needless to say, there was a rift at the reference to her.

"Anyways," continued Grimmjow, having successfully shut Szayel up, "She actually backed up into my car. We got to talkin' and ended up hitting it off. Orihime Inoue. Gave me her number n' everything. I'm supposed to call her or something and make plans."

"She dented up your ride? Man, let me tell you, I would have set the bitch straight," said Nnoitra in disbelief.

"Coming from the ladies' man of the year. I don't know how Nel puts up with you. Oh, _wait_ – she doesn't!" Szayel derided. "Well, what are you waiting for, Grimmjow? Text her."

"Yeah, you could be gettin' laid right now."

Grimmjow thought about it for a moment, before pulling his phone out of his pocket and firing off a quick _'Hey, it's Grimmjow'_.

"And now, we wait."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. The guys looked around at one another as more knocks followed, waiting for someone to get up and open the door.

"Fuckin' fine, I'll get it," grumbled Nnoitra, who slunk off the couch and went to open it. Behind the door was Ulquiorra, who was still delving around in his pocket for his keys. He looked up, and quietly thanked Starrk for opening the door.

"Well, wouldja' look at what the cat dragged in," said Grimmjow, reclining in his seat.

"And where were you?" asked Szayel.

Ulquiorra placed his near empty coffee cup on a nearby stair and slipped off his shoes. "The coffee shop."

Nnoitra's grey eyes locked onto something. He sauntered around Ulquiorra, picking up the cup.

"Hold up. What's this I see?" he snickered. "A phone number?"

Ulquiorra reared up, snatching the paper cup from Nnoitra's bony hands. He glowered at the tall man before carrying up to his room.

"Dang Grimmjow," said Starrk, yawning. "Looks like you're not the only one getting lucky."


	4. IV

thanks for the reviews! ^.^ next chapter should be a long one - i _hope._ o.o

* * *

"It's _him_!"

Orihime jumped as her phone vibrated, buzzing around on the glass coffee table.

"It's who?" replied Rukia, somewhat muffled. She stepped out from the bathroom, a toothbrush in her mouth.

"Well, remember how I said I got into a little accident today? It was with this cute guy," said Orihime, fiddling with her phone, "He asked me on a date. I gave him my number."

"That date better be so you can talk about insurance policies," said Rukia, finishing up her night routine. "You didn't tell me his name."

"Oh! It was something different…" Orihime thought aloud, frustrated she couldn't remember his name. "Er… ah. Yes! Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez. I'm pretty sure he goes to school here, too."

"_Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez_?"

"Yeah, I thought it was a pretty weird name, too."

"No, Orihime – that's _the_ Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez. As in the star state football quarterback?"

"We have a football team?"

Rukia huffed before flopping down on the sofa beside her friend.

"Are you texting him back?"

"Well, of course!" replied Orihime, before replying to Grimmjow's text with a simple "_Hi!_"

She waited, barely even a minute before she got a "_What's up?_" in response. Just then, the screen of her iPhone flipped to an unknown caller ID.

"Hello?" she said, answering the phone.

"Hello." said the voice from the other line. "It's Ulquiorra. You gave me your phone number."

Orihime's eyes almost popped out of her skull. Rukia stared at her enquiringly, motioning for her to put the phone on speaker mode.

"Oh, yeah," Orihime chuckled nervously, "How are you?"

"Fine," he replied simply. "And you?"

"Good!"

"Good. Was there a particular reason you gave me your phone number?"

Rukia slapped her forehead in exasperation.

Orihime laughed agitatedly once more. "Well, I thought since you, uh, come in so much," she began, "We could get to know each other better."

"Sure." he replied, hesitating slightly before continuing. "Do you attend school at Las Noches U?"

Just before Orihime could manage a response, the text-tone played again in reminder that she had not answered Grimmjow's text. She opened up the text-messaging screen and sent '_Just hanging out at home. You_?'

"Um, yeah I do. It's my second year here, I really enjoy it! I'm taking my prerequisites to Nursing and I'm in the culinary arts club. What about you?"

Just then, Orihime's phone vibrated again. Grimmjow had described his _'night with the guys'_ and had asked when she wanted to meet up that week, suggesting tomorrow night. Rukia surveyed the scene before her unfold like an intense sports game in the final quarter.

"Yes, I'm registered in my second year of Philosophy."

Suddenly, the door to their shared apartment space opened up. Tatsuki walked through the door, about to announce her arrival when Rukia curtly turned to her and motioned for her to keep it quiet. Tatsuki looked confused, but complied nonetheless.

Orihime, who was at a loss on how to reply to Ulquiorra's somehow alluring monotony, stuttered. She flipped tabs on her phone to reply to Grimmjow's text. "_Sure, tomorrow works fine._ :)"

"Hm?" he said.

"_ASK HIM TO GO OUT_!" Rukia mouthed wordlessly, with great exaggeration.

"Er, speaking of school," said Orihime, who was having trouble juggling conversations, "I have to finish a paper. But we should go out sometime this week and talk. When is good for you?"

"I have no allotted study time on Saturday afternoons. Does that work?"

"You mean tomorrow?" Orihime stuttered. Rukia's hands were covering her eyes.

"Tomorrow is Saturday, yes," he said, sounding bored.

"Uh, okay! Yeah! Saturday works fine, see you then!" she said, sounding a little too excited before hanging up. Orihime flopped on her back over the side of the couch.

"Orihime, what have you gotten yourself into?" asked Rukia, jolted. "Did you get into _two_ car accidents today?"

Tatsuki was beyond lost.

"Guys, what's going on?"

"Where do I even begin?" Orihime moaned.


	5. V

thanks for all the kind reviews. ^.^ this chapter is srsly romantic and cute and junk. bear with me, as i am an _angst_ writer - this is a step outside of my comfort zone. ulquihime fans, this one's for you. grimmhime fans, your time is coming!

* * *

Ulquiorra sat in an ill-lit corner of some diner, alone and unmoving. If he hadn't been casually sipping on his coffee, he might have blended right in with the wallpaper. He waited quietly, nursing his by-now cold cup of black coffee. Orihime wasn't late, he was simply early. He watched the other people in the diner. A tattooed redhead, sitting in the corner tapping his pencil away on his notebook, something that sounded a lot like _The Smiths_ blaring out of his headphones. An elderly man with a long white beard sitting solitarily in a booth with a mug in hand. Ulquiorra enjoyed people-watching. It proved well as a distraction, especially when he found himself wondering exactly _what_ he was doing, going on a date with some girl he hardly knew.

Yes, he was a particularly lonely person. He lived with what you could call 'friends', having known the group of men since he was very young, but Ulquiorra had always been used to a specific kind of emptiness. His parents died when he was rather young, which put him under foster care. For as long as he could remember, Ulquiorra had always lived under a sort of vacuum. However, Orihime made him feel slightly disordered. An odd reverberation in his cyclic hollowness.

His green eyes darted to the door of the building in immediate response, following a flash of ginger hair and a shapely figure. She smiled at him, almost gawkily, a slight pink blush staining her cheeks. Even seeing her now made him feel oddly palliated.

"I hope I'm not late," she said, sounding anxious. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Waiting? Not long," he replied simply. "I arrived early."

"Oh, good," said Orihime, settling into the other side of the booth. The waitress approached their table with a sugary smile plastered on her face, topping up Ulquiorra's coffee before asking Orihime what she preferred. "Coffee, please."

The woman returned with a powder blue mug filled to the brim, steam billowing out of the cup.

"Can I get you two anything to eat?"

"No, thank you," replied Ulquiorra, "I'm not hungry."

"I think I'll have the mashed potatoes, with noodles and gravy. Oh, and the wafers with grape jelly. Also, do you have any red bean paste? If so, I'd like that on the chocolate cake with pinto beans, with a side of matcha ice cream, and avocado over kimchi with natto on rice."

The waitress looked thrown as she scrawled down the strange concoction on her server pad, but smiled and acquiesced regardless. "Coming right up."

Orihime smiled brightly. Ulquiorra watched her with unpretentious interest as she began to chatter away blissfully. Every few moments or so, she would try to ask him about himself, but he would adroitly direct the dialogue back to her. There was nothing remarkably fascinating about his life, and she seemed alright with it and continued talking. Orihime appeared to have discerned the fact that he didn't feel comfortable opening up about himself quite yet, and left it at that.

Soon enough, the waitress brought Orihime's food by the table, placing the several large plates in front of her before topping up their coffees and bidding her a good meal. Ulquiorra watched her charily, observing the way she daintily chewed on the food before her. Before he knew it, her plates were near scraped clean.

"Do you want to try some?"

"No, thank you."

"C'mon, you haven't eaten anything and I got all this. Just try the last bit."

Ulquiorra hesitated, looking at the odd combination of food. She scooped up some of the chocolate cake with bean paste on her spoon, and held it out towards Ulquiorra as if he were to be fed. He stared at it momentarily, before deciding to eat it. The bizarre mixture of flavours slid down his throat without ease.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"Hn."

Orihime felt her face grow hot again.

"All done here?" asked the waitress, whom the two hadn't noticed approach.

"Yes, thank you." replied Ulquiorra, reaching for the bill she placed on the table.

He began to reach for his wallet, when Orihime took the bill from his other hand.

"Let me," she began.

"It's fine."

"No, please. I think I ate more than you, anyways." she said with a smile, as she began shelling out the money.

The waitress took the money and said her goodbyes as the two began to get themselves together and take their leave.

"I could have paid for my own coffee, at the very least." said Ulquiorra.

"I'm the one who asked you out. That means I get to pay."

He held the door open for her, which she promptly replied with _another_ blush.

"Do you have a crush on me?" he asked, flatly.

"What?" replied Orihime, somewhat dazed.

"Do you have a crush on me? You're always blushing. It's far too cool out this time of year for it to be anything else."

Orihime was silent for a moment.

"And what if I did?"

Ulquiorra shrugged uncharacteristically.

"I was curious." he replied, followed by more silence. "Do you need a cab home?"

"No, I live really close. A few blocks away in the larger student residence building." she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "Well, thanks so much for –"

"I'll walk you home then."

"What?"

"I'll walk you home." he said, as he started walking. "Down this way, correct?"

"Oh, yeah," said Orihime, who sped-walk to catch up with his stride. "Thank you."

"It's no trouble."

The fall wind was cooler than usual, marking the beginning of winter. Orihime zipped her sweater up to the neck, shivering faintly.

"How foolish of you to only wear such a thin sweater out today," he sighed, stopping and taking off his jacket. He handed it to Orihime. "Put this on. It's much thicker than what you're wearing."

"But you're going to get cold, too! Seriously, I'm fine, I don't live very much further."

"You're shivering. Put it on."

Orihime hesitated before she realized he wasn't going to comply with her argument. She took the jacket gratefully, and put it on, feeling his warmth.

"Thank you, Ulquiorra," she said, smiling.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. When they finally arrived at the ground of Orihime's apartment, she turned to him.

"Today was really nice," she said, beginning to take off his jacket and hand it back to him. He held up his hand in resolve.

"Keep it. You can wear it out instead of catching the chills." he responded, looking quite unaffected by the wind anyhow. "And you never did answer my question."

"Which one?"

"Do you have a crush on me?"

Orihime smiled timidly.

"I guess I do."

"Good." he replied, rather vacuously. "I enjoyed going out with you today. We should do it again sometime in the near future."

"Yeah, we should."

"I'll see you, Orihime." he said, before turning away to make his leave.

She _swore_ she saw just the hint of a smile crack his habitually obdurate expression. Orihime felt giddy, as she ran into her apartment to tell Rukia the news.


	6. VI

the humble beginnings of some long-awaited grimmhime! i know you've all been waiting for this + a dash of ichiruki (if you squint). thanks for the reviews! ^.^

* * *

"What the fuck do I wear?"

Grimmjow tore through his closet, finding nothing but pullover hoodies, jeans, t-shirts, and more pullover hoodies.

"You're really out of your element, aren't you?" asked his pink-haired roommate, who sat on Grimmjow's bed, looking bored. "In fact, when's the last time you went out on an official date?"

Grimmjow dug around in the pile of clothes at the bottom of his closet, thinking hard.

"Probably in grade school when my mom invited Isane Kotetsu over to my house for dinner _for me_."

A very, very tall man leant in the doorway, looking as if he were stuffed into the frame. Nnoitra laughed.

"Grimmjow's not a _date_ kind of guy," he said, looking at Szayelapporo. "He's a _get-shittered-at-a-party-and-fuck_ kind of guy."

Grimmjow shot Nnoitra a dirty look. However, it was true, and Grimmjow knew it. It wasn't that he was unattractive – hell, he had girls all over him most of the time – but he wasn't exactly the most romantic, either. He was used to texting some bitchy cheerleader night and day until she made her way over to his house, gave him head, and after that, voila – he'd never talk to her ever again. He used girls just as well as they used him, and that's just how it was. But Orihime wasn't some high-maintenance campus bitch, and that's where he ran into problems.

"This girl's a _nice_ girl though," he said, pulling out a shirt and holding it up to his chest. Szayelapporo shook his head in disagreement, and Grimmjow threw it back into the closet. "She's a nice girl who deserves a nice date, alright?"

"What exactly makes her any different from any other girl who's been all over you, though?" asked Szayel, adjusting his glasses.

"I dunno," replied Grimmjow. "Just somethin' about her, I guess."

Nnoitra oo'ed mockingly. "Somebody's got a real big girly crush!"

"Fuck you, _Overbite_." growled the bluenette, balling up a pair of jeans and hurling them at the taller man. Nnoitra scowled at him. Grimmjow finally pulled out a simple chambray button down, and a pair of khakis. "Fuck it, I'm not going to spend time searching through my wardrobe like some thirteen year old girl on her first date."

"Isn't that what you are, though?" asked Nnoitra, this time earning a laugh from Szayel. Grimmjow punched him in the stomach on his way to the bathroom to shower and change.

He texted Orihime, letting her know he'd be on his way to pick her up in about an hour, before hopping into the warm, steaming shower.

* * *

"Damn," she muttered, leaning half-over to pull on a black heel while trying to brush her hair at the same time. Being as uncoordinated as she was, this was an incredibly difficult task and she promptly toppled over, landing on a pile of her schoolbooks. A string of obscenities followed this, and she rubbed the small of her back, where the offence had occurred. She shook her head; Tatsuki's short temper had finally started to rub off on her. "That's going to bruise," she told herself, kicking the books under the bed with her still-bare foot. She was slightly frustrated at the higher level of formality that 'dinner and a movie' required.

"He's early!" she cried out upon hearing the obnoxious shriek of the doorbell. "Hold on a second!"

She silently cursed her inability to get ready on time. Her hair was still undone, only one shoe was in place, and her make-up had yet to be applied. She whimpered out of self-pity, hobbling (due to the lopsidedness caused from a lack of both shoes being on) to the door to answer.

The whine of the doorbell subsided, and she heard the door open and close.

"Orihime, is that you? Where are you?"

"Ichigo?" she asked, impatient. "Bedroom!"

She tugged on the shoe once more, causing her to fall over. She saw a flash of orange hair before her line of sight disappeared from behind the side of the bed.

"What are you doing down there?" asked Ichigo, extending a hand to help her up.

"Trying to get ready," she mumbled, grasping his hand. "And it's taking me forever. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Rukia," he said, "But it looks like she's still not back from work. Where are you going that requires high-heels?"

"On a date!" replied Orihime, sounding excited. Now on her feet with both shoes on, she went to stand in front of the mirror, carefully placing her hair pins in a neat chignon at the back of her hair. "What do you think so far, Ichigo?"

Orihime stood before Ichigo, wearing a flowy chiffon dress and a denim jacket.

"You look gorgeous, as always," he said, smiling at his best friend. "Is this guy coming to pick you up?"

"Yeah, he is," said Orihime, who disappeared into the bathroom to start applying her makeup. "He should be here soon. Anyways, Rukia gets home at 8, so you have a little while. If you want, there's some of my leftover chocolate-covered ramen in the fridge!"

"Thanks but no thanks, Orihime." Ichigo laughed before settling down on the sofa in front of the television. He flipped it on and turned to channel 226, which was currently airing something called "_Jersey Shore_". After a few short minutes of watching this, Ichigo could feel his brain cells dying, but oddly enough, had no desire to change the channel. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"Could you get that, Ichigo?" Orihime yelled from the bathroom. Ichigo complied with her request, pulled himself off the couch, and went to open the door.

He was greeted by a regrettably familiar face, framed by startlingly blue hair.

"Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez?" asked Ichigo, unpleasantly surprised.


	7. VII

holy poop. i hope this is enough fluff for all you grimmhime fans! it took me forever to come up with the idea for this chapter, i hope it suffices! thanks for all your kind reviews. xx ^.^

* * *

"Well, look who it is. Ichigo Kurosaki." stated Grimmjow plainly, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," said Ichigo, eyebrows furrowed. "You're taking Orihime on a date?"

"Duh. And you? Why are you kickin' around here?"

"It just so happens that I'm a good friend of Orihime's as well."

"Huh," Grimmjow muttered to himself, stepping past Ichigo and into the apartment. He looked Ichigo up and down a few times before smirking. "Looks like I didn't break you too badly if you're still up and walking around, hey, Kurosaki? Number 15, right?"

"Right," answered Ichigo, grimacing at the reference. "And you're still –"

"Number 6." Grimmjow let his typical animalistic grin spread across his face once more, looking at the orange-haired man once again. "Last time I saw you, you were bein' pulled away on a stretcher. Hey, sorry about that, man."

Ichigo seethed at the memory. They'd both played football together on opposing teams in their tenth year. Ichigo had met Grimmjow before the game, who was infuriatingly smug, swathed by cheerleaders. During the game, as Ichigo ran, Grimmjow tackled him pugnaciously from behind. In the heat of the tackle, his helmet was dislodged, sending him down right on his neck – which left him in a neck brace for weeks. Grimmjow never did bother to apologize, and his team won by default score. Ichigo wasn't one to be a sore loser, he'd lost games before. What _really_ did it for him is that while he was lying there destitute on the stretcher, he watched his former long-time crush, Rangiku Matsumoto plant a kiss on his blue-haired adversary.

Ichigo was about to lash back at the bluenette, when he heard heeled footsteps coming from the hall. No, he wouldn't let his past disinclination create prejudice on Orihime's relationships. He owed her more than to make assumptions based on _high-school_ – after all, _nobody_ had a good time in high-school.

"No worries," said Ichigo, suddenly changing his disposition. "That was a long time ago."

Orihime came to the two at the door.

"Hi, Grimmjow," she said, a faint blush rising on her cheeks when she noticed how handsome he looked. "You two know each other?"

"Played football together for a while," said Grimmjow, still looking at Ichigo. He turned to Orihime, his animal nature growing kinder. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, of course," said Orihime, smiling. She turned to Ichigo just before she stepped through the door. "I'll see you later tonight, okay? Let me know when Rukia comes home!"

And with that, she had closed the door on Ichigo. He sat back down in his former position on the couch. He wondered how someone as sweet as Orihime could have even met Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez. He knew that a good friend of his, Neliel, was on-and-off dating one of Grimmjow's closest friends, Nnoitra Gilga, and from what he'd heard, Grimmjow wasn't the kind of down-to-earth, hard-working type that Orihime was. He was the opposite, really – _frat party every weekend, coasting through courses, drink and fuck_ kind of guy. They had only actually met twice, if you counted today, but Ichigo still didn't like the guy.

The ginger sighed to himself.

He could let it go, for Orihime's sake – she seemed to like him, and Ichigo wouldn't stand in the way of that. Still, he couldn't get it off his mind…

* * *

The sun began to set over the city skyline, turning the leaden grey concrete buildings into dazzling, golden spires. Everyone was leaving work, causing the motorways and pavements to become engulfed in throngs of people as they headed home, or out on the town. Grimmjow unlocked his car – which, Orihime remarked to herself, _was_ the same color as his hair – with the automatic key ring, and held the door open for Orihime.

"Thank you," she replied. She glanced around at his vehicle before taking the weight of the door from him. "Looks like I didn't wreck your car too horribly."

Grimmjow chuckled, before rounding back to his side of the car. They both got in, doors slamming in harmony.

"Nah, just a little scratch I buffed out." he said, putting the key in ignition. The car rumbled to life, and something Orihime briefly recognized as _Big Poppa by Notorious BIG_ began playing softly. This was the kind of music Sado and Ichigo had listened to in their final year of high-school, she remembered. "You know this song?"

Orihime snapped out of her thoughts when she realized she had been humming quietly to herself, her cheeks reddening slightly.

"That's cool," Grimmjow said, not waiting for her response. "Most chicks wouldn't."

He changed his gear shift and began to reverse out of the parallel parking slot, driving smoothly until he accelerated from the spot. Orihime tensed as he drove, which felt erratic and fast. He, however, appeared rather calm, handling the vehicle naturally.

"So, like," began Grimmjow, whose eyes were fixated on the road, "I know this place where we could eat. An old friend of mine owns it. It's kinda shitty, but it's good."

"Oh, yeah," replied Orihime, who didn't fully understand what he meant, but she nodded in agreement anyways. When they came to a red light, he turned to her.

"Unless you know somewhere better. It's totally up to you."

"I'm not fussy!"

Grimmjow smiled. "Good."

They sat in silence for the rest of the way, which wasn't so bad. They got there fairly quickly due to Grimmjow's speedy – and somewhat heedless – driving. It appeared to be a _literal_ hole in the wall, a few dusty windows in a brick wall with a single door. Inside, however, quarrelled with the sketchy exterior. It was a trendy little restaurant, with mismatched dining sets that were full of people. It was a little crowded, but cosy, with a pleasant spicy sort of smell wafting around.

There seemed to be a small line of people waiting for a table, but Grimmjow sauntered ahead of them and up to the man standing at the front desk.

"Sorry, we're all full," said the man, without looking up from whatever he was doing behind the counter. "It's going to be about a 45 minute wait for a table."

"Fuck that, Shawlong," said Grimmjow, grinning. "You know I won't wait for a table."

Shawlong Koufang looked up, and smiled at the bluenette.

"Ah, Grimmjow, what a surprise to see you here without your gaggle of buffoons," he said, simpering. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm _actually_ on a date," he replied. "And I'd owe you one if you could bump us up into the next open table. Whaddaya say?"

"I'm not sure that would make me look like a very upstanding business owner," responded Shawlong, sighing.

"C'mon, man," said Grimmjow, speaking more quietly now. "I'll make sure Nnoitra stays away from your flower pots, eh?"

The light caught in his grey eyes. She ran a hand through his dark hair, and picked up two menus.

"Fine," he complied, "But I swear, next time I won't hesitate to kick you guys out for good – even if you are my friend."

"Thanks a lot, man."

Grimmjow turned and smiled at Orihime, gesturing for her to follow. She was curious to know what exactly had bribed the small business owner to let Grimmjow past the lineup of people.

He sat them at the table, and started out Grimmjow with a pint of beer and Orihime, a glass of wine. She had never been crazy about alcohol, but she tried the red presented to her, and found she liked it.

"So this place is okay?" he asked. Orihime felt more at ease – it seemed like he was a little nervous, too.

"Yes, of course," she replied, smiling. "It's lovely."

When the waitress came to take their order, they settled on a pizza, on Grimmjow's half a fairly carnivorous arrangement of different meats, and on Orihime's, a weird assortment of several items on the menu, sprinkled over the pizza itself.

He watched her take a bite of her pizza, and then sip her glass of wine.

"Pizza and wine," he mused, "Classy."

She smiled at him in between another bite.

"What did that man say about the flower pots, by the way?"

Grimmjow snickered.

"Oh, shit. This one time me and my buddies came down here for drinks and whatever, and one of them just got real trashed. Like, _reallllllllly_ trashed. Long story short, he couldn't make it to the bathroom, and pissed in one of the flower pots. Honestly, I'm surprised Shawlong still lets us in here after that one."

Orihime looked shocked for a moment, before laughing.

They made entertaining, albeit somewhat awkward conversation until they were finished, and their server approached again, looking for a dessert order to be taken. Grimmjow abjured, but suggested Orihime go ahead, who promptly ordered a bowl of matcha ice cream.

When it arrived, Orihime offered Grimmjow some on a spoon. He declined again, not having much of a sweet tooth. Orihime shrugged, treating herself to the spoonful. It melted in her mouth, earning a sound of soft delight. Grimmjow laughed at the face she made when she ate it. They continued to make light conversation, which gradually grew easier to create. After a long while, Grimmjow asked for the bill. Orihime took one look at it and her eyes bugged out.

"Since when did matcha ice cream get so expensive?" she wondered aloud.

"Probably around the same time you ate 5 bowls of it," said Grimmjow, laughing. "Don't worry about it, alright? I gotcha."

Grimmjow pulled a few bills from his wallet, with just enough for a satisfactory tip and left it in the middle of the table. They stepped outside, realizing it was much darker out than it had been when they entered.

"Looks like we lost track of time, huh?" he said. "Damn, we've probably missed the last late show at the theatre by now."

"That's fine," said Orihime. "We could just go for a walk."

"Great idea."

Grimmjow took her hand, eliciting a blush from Orihime as they crossed the street into the park. Clouds covered the moon, darkening the lanes until they were only lit by streetlamps. They walked for a while in loops, talking, until they were on the other end of the park. It had gotten late, and they started to amble back to Grimmjow's car.

"So, how do you know Ichigo?" Orihime finally asked.

"Eh, we played a few football games against each other in high-school. Kicked his ass a few times, never really saw him again." said Grimmjow, who stuffed his other hand into his pocket. "Couldn't help but think the guy doesn't really like me. How d'you know him?"

"We've always gone to the same school, but we got really close in our final year. He's dating another good friend of mine, and they've been together for a while. Ichigo's pretty much my best friend." said Orihime, who hesitated before continuing. "Before graduation, my older brother, Sora, got into a terrible car accident. Ichigo's father is a doctor, and cared for him until he passed. My parents died when I was very little… so his family has been my family ever since."

Grimmjow fell silent.

"Hey, I'm really sorry," he murmured, "My, er, my dad actually died before I was born. Never knew the guy. My mom kinda leant on the support of her friends for a long while after that. I grew up with their kids, they're like my brothers and sisters, really. I even room with a few of them, now. I was always pretty jealous of them, though, not gonna lie or anything. I've always kinda wondered what it was like to have a dad or something. Someone to teach you all that guy stuff or to go camping with and shit."

Suddenly, his face grew slightly red, clashing with his teal hair.

"Fuck, I've never told anybody that." he said, coming to a stop.

Orihime turned to him and smiled.

"Well, thank you for sharing it with me."

He turned to face her, his deep blue eyes looking into her chocolate orbs.

Orihime felt the heat rising in her cheeks as he leaned in towards her, now eyeing her glossy lips.

Just as he was barely millimeters away from her face, a loud crash of thunder boomed in the sky.

"Fuck!" Grimmjow yelled, understandably disconcerted. As it began to rain, Orihime giggled. Grimmjow, obviously flustered, grabbed her hand again as they began to pace back to his car. The rain had really started coming down now, in globular, unfriendly droplets.

He drove her home, slower this time due to the low visibility, in an oddly comfortable silence. When he pulled up to her apartment, the locks clicked audibly.

"Thanks for coming out tonight," said Grimmjow, looking over at her. Raindrops stuck to his skin and hair. "It was pretty fun."

"Thanks for taking me out," Orihime said, smiling brightly.

"There's a party at my place next weekend," he said, ruffling his hair in a similar fashion to a wet animal. "It's my friend Nnoitra's birthday. You know, flower pot guy."

"Oh, him," said Orihime, laughing.

"Yeah, you know. But yeah. I think it'd be cool to have you show up. You can bring your friends, if ya like."

"Sounds great," she said, opening the door. "I'll be there. Good night, Grimmjow."

Just before she stepped out of the car, Grimmjow grabbed onto her hand. Pulling her close, he kissed her on the cheek for a brief moment before letting her go.

"Night, Orihime," he said, before reaching over and pulling the car door shut. With that, he sped off in the opposite direction.

Orihime backed away from the curb, blushing and dazed. She turned to her apartment, anxious to tell Rukia about her date.


	8. VIII

here's a longer chapter, since i probably won't be updating as often with school around the corner :c beware of immense foul language and drunken shenaningans! this is a college party, after all... happy reading!

* * *

The week had passed fairly quickly, which most students were thankful of. Word of Nnoitra's party had spread rapidly, reaching even the furthest corners of the social circle. When the end of the day's classes had arrived, Orihime made her way home. She opened the door, greeted by the aroma of cooking ramen, and a larger group of people than she had expected to. Rukia and Tatsuki leaned on the kitchen counter, making conversation with the rest of the group, which consisted of Ichigo, Sado Yasutora, Uryu Ishida and Keigo Asano.

"Hey Orihime," they all greeted. Rukia pushed herself from the edge of the counter and turned to the stove.

"We ended up inviting a few more people after all," said Rukia, stirring the ramen. "My brother said he'd give us all a lift there, and we can split the money on a cab later tonight."

"Tatsuki's being a party-pooper, and she's not going with us, so we brought _this_ guy along," said Ichigo, gesturing towards Keigo adversely, who flipped Ichigo off.

"What, why?" asked Orihime, putting her purse down on an empty counter.

"Hey, I gotta work tomorrow morning," said Tatsuki, shrugging. "I'm trying to be pro-active."

Chuckling at Tatsuki's comment, Rukia took the pot off the burner and began to dole out the food into bowls. Slowly but surely, the guys dragged themselves from their seats to grab a bite. When they had all finished their food, the girls went to get ready for the evening. Orihime couldn't help but feel a little nervous. She wondered to herself if Ulquiorra would be going, though she didn't think he seemed to be the party type. They had been talking meagrely throughout the week, him being the private, focused guy he was. She liked Ulquiorra, but _Grimmjow_ had invited her out. In fact, they had hung out a few times that week following the date. As she began to pick out her attire, she decided that Ulquiorra could wait.

It grew dark outside, and soon enough, everybody was ready to go. Tatsuki waved them goodbye before settling in for the night, locking the door behind them. They waited outside the apartment, until Rukia's older brother, Byakuya Kuchiki, pulled up in his large, black utility vehicle. Rukia got in the front seat of the large vehicle, thanking him for taking them out. He muttered something about "driving a bunch of lazy kids around", but complied nonetheless. They drove in silence, creating an awkward atmosphere for everyone but the two Kuchiki's sitting happily in the front seat. After some time, Byakuya pulled up to the house. Light trickled out from the venetian blinds of the house, and the bass from loud music filtered outdoors.

"Be safe," said Byakuya simply, hardly looking at them as they stepped out of his car, before speeding off into the night. As the group approached the house, the sound of brash carousing could be heard. Orihime was at the top step, and rang the doorbell. They stood for a moment, before Ichigo reached up beside her and pressed the doorbell a multitude of times before someone yanked the door open.

A man answered the door, his poorly-cut white hair falling in front of his right eye. He grinned, flashing the group his gapped, jagged teeth.

"_Yoooooooooooooo_! What's up, guys? Way to come to the party! Drinks are in the dining room, and there are a few rooms upstairs if you're feelin' frisky!" he said raucously, a trace of whiskey on his breath. He made way for the group to enter, before focusing on Orihime, who came in last. His eyes narrowed in on Orihime's chest. "I could give ya a tour of the house if you want."

Before Orihime could answer to his libidinous comment, it seemed that Grimmjow appeared out of nowhere, his arm making its way around her shoulders while the other was occupied with a bottle of beer.

"Hey, Di Roy. I think Menoly's savin' you a spot on the couch in the other room," he said, "You know. Your _girlfriend_?"

Di Roy gave Grimmjow a look before slinking off into the other room, and Grimmjow's protective air wore off.

"Sorry about that. He's kind of an asshole."

"It's fine, he didn't do anything," said Orihime, before looking around. "Looks like my friends disappeared on me…"

"It's not a very big house," he replied, before finishing his beer. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Um, sure. Why not?"

"Cool."

And with that, Grimmjow turned down the hall and into another room. People littered the house, leaning against walls, sitting on every available seat. She wondered how the floorboards stayed in place with so many people upon them. Orihime took note to follow him, noticing the sparsely furnished campus house. People hooted and shouted, the noises carrying out into the hall. They entered what Orihime assumed to be a dining room, where she found Ichigo and Rukia, standing around, already having found two red plastic cups. She went to stand next to them when a heavily tattooed man began approaching the couple, a big, drunk grin plastered onto his face.

"Heyyyyyy! Didn't expect to see you here, Rukia!" he shouted over the music, and inadvertently, right into Orihime's ear. He bumped her out of the way before wrapping his arms around Ichigo and Rukia. "And, ah, you too, Ichigo."

As Rukia began to catch up with the man – while Ichigo watched, sipping his drink and looking rather blasé – Orihime turned, to find Grimmjow with two of plastic cups in hand. He held one out, which she accepted. She looked down into the cup, guessing that it wasn't just soda. She sniffed it cautiously, before taking a sip. Her face screwed up in mild disgust, to which Grimmjow laughed.

"Not a big drinker, are ya?" he said loudly, trying to compete with the volume of the party. "I assumed as much. Tried to put as much chase in there as I could."

"What is this?"

"Vodka and coke."

Grimmjow suggested they move into a quieter room, past the packed living room and dining space. In the kitchen, only three other people stood, one was Keigo, making conversation with a pretty, green haired girl, and the other rummaging through the fridge, presumably looking for another drink.

Grimmjow leaned on the counter with one arm, facing Orihime.

"You look real pretty tonight, Orihime," he said, "And I promise that's not the six drinks I had talking."

"Six?" Orihime said, laughing in mild disbelief. "It's only ten-thirty!"

"Hey, it's Blackout Friday, go hard or go home," he said casually, grinning. "You don't party much, do ya?"

"Not really," she said. "On a Friday night like this, I'm usually watching movies with Tatsuki and the rest."

"Hey, that's cool too," said Grimmjow, getting a little closer to Orihime. He looked at her desirously, taking her hand briefly before a pink-haired man ran into the room, looking frantic.

"Grimmjow!"

"What do you want, Szayel?" he snarled, "Don't those glasses help you to see I'm a little busy right now?"

"Come on," said Szayel, lowering his voice. "Cirucci's here. I saw her come in; she looked _pissed_ – saying something to Sung-Sun about us not inviting her. She's trashing the place out front, so I ran back here to let you know."

"No, you ran back here to _hide_," said Grimmjow, growling. He chugged his drink before crushing the cup and throwing it into the sink. "Fuck, fine. Go get Overbite. Let's get her out of here. I'll be right back, okay?"

He glanced reassuringly at Orihime, before grabbing Szayel by the collar of his shirt and dragging him out of the room.

* * *

Ichigo was _shitfaced_. Not tipsy, nor buzzed, and not just plain drunk – but shitfaced.

When Renji had decided to show up and chat up Rukia, Ichigo decided he'd have more fun if he left Renji's general vicinity, and went to look for a source of entertainment. He'd found Sado and Keigo playing beer pong with a bunch of people, did that until Keigo disappeared with Neliel for some reason beyond him, and then sat to play sociables with Tatsuki, Uryu and a few people he was vaguely familiar with. By this point, Ichigo was feeling pretty legless, but had continued to drink nonetheless. Besides, he hardly ever went out – what could it hurt?

Ichigo stood in a circle in the far corner of the living room, talking to a few guys he knew as Kira Izuru, Shuuhei Hisagi and Kaien Shiba. They joked amongst themselves, raucous and drunk, before the sudden commotion at the front door. Grimmjow, Szayelaporro and Nnoitra stood, in the middle of a shouting match with Cirucci Sanderwicci.

"You think you can have a party and not invite me?" she screamed at Szayel, poking her finger into his chest. He stood there mutely, before Nnoitra cut in, grabbing her hand mid-poke.

"Yo bitch, this is _my_ party. Now calm the fuck down, or haul your ass outta here," he said, his eyes glinting dangerously.

She wrenched free of his grasp before slapping Nnoitra across the face, which sent him down to the ground, spilling his drink. Everyone stood, shocked, a bit of a crowd forming. People groaned and laughed.

"Party foul!" cried Shuuhei.

"And you two fuckers, thinking you can sneak into my house using Nel's key, and shove my shit up your ass! You fucking perverts!" she screamed, pointing at both Grimmjow and Nnoitra.

"Now I gotta clean that shit up!" Grimmjow yelled, seemingly more offended by the mess the spilt drink had made than his injured friend. He pushed Szayel out of the way, stepping in front of him and looking Cirucci straight ahead. "You're fucking insane, y'know that? Straight up fucking bonkers."

Cirucci gasped and grabbed Grimmjow's drink out of his hand. She tossed the drink in his direction, to which Grimmjow responded to by dexterously dipping underneath the oncoming splash. Unfortunately, that meant Szayelaporro took the full blow. Grimmjow's odd concoction of cream soda and vodka covered Szayelaporro's chambray button-down, staining it a color that matched his hair. His face contorted into a mixture of vehement fury and complete horror as he let out a loud yell. He stepped beside Grimmjow and picked up Cirucci in one swift motion, throwing her over his shoulder.

"Let me down, you fucking dick!" she screeched, her balled fists coming down on his lower back hard. As people cheered and chanted his name, he stomped into the hall towards the front door. Nnoitra cheered, picking himself up off the ground.

"Looks like Szayel finally grew a pair," he chuckled, hi-fiving Grimmjow.

"I was hesitant before, but now I am certain. Cirucci, you truly are crazy," he said, opening up the door. "Come in here again and I won't hesitate to embarrass you even further. Now, _good-fucking-bye_."

With that, he dropped her onto the grass just below the step, and slammed the door, locking it. A swarm of people gathered in the hallway, picking up Szayelaporro and carrying him like a king. Grimmjow hi-fived him, laughing wildly while Nnoitra retold the whole story, no mind to the fact that it had only happened seconds ago. Unexpectedly, in the midst of Nnoitra's story, a dainty, tanned hand made home on Grimmjow's shoulder. He turned, blue eyes widening.

"Hey, babe," purred a throaty voice, "Long time no see."

"Yoruichi?" he said in scepticism, as if she were a mirage. "What are you doing here?"

She flipped her long, purple hair over her shoulder, leaning into Grimmjow.

"I heard about Nnoitra's party, word travels fast. Thought I'd stop by."

"I don't think that was a very good idea, Yoruichi."

"And why not?" asked Yoruichi, near mocking of Grimmjow's suddenly serious disposition. "I just wanted to check out the party scene. Say hi to an old friend. Is that so wrong of me?"

Grimmjow looked around nervously, before pulling her a little closer.

"You know as well as I do that we weren't just friends," he said, his voice low. "Go home or something, 'kay? There's not much here for you, anyways."

Yoruichi twirled her hair in her fingers, giving Grimmjow a cheeky, sultry smile.

"I came to see you. I wanted to see how you were doing."

"You didn't seem to care about how I was doing when you left me for Kisuke." said Grimmjow, appearing irritated now.

Yoruichi's deft fingers grabbed Grimmjow's chin as she looked him in the eyes.

"Why would I do that? You're _so_ hot."

With that, Yoruichi pressed her lips to Grimmjow's, gently at first, but then deepening the kiss. Grimmjow's coherence, addled by alcohol, went with it at first before shaking her off.

"What are you doing?!" he asked, backing away from her. "You broke up with me, remember?"

"Look, Grimmjow," She closed in on him again, slowly. "I left Kisuke the other night. Thought we needed a break. I've just been missing you too much. I realized I made a mistake."

"Seriously, Yoruichi, it's too late for that, I've met someo-"

Grimmjow tried to continue, but Yoruichi kissed him again, shutting him up. He was taken aback this time, stumbling slightly. She kissed him with greater intensity this time, deftly working her tongue into his mouth. He could feel the booze working on him, the buzz running through his limbs before he no longer had the will to push her away. His body was in full control now, reason took the backseat. He kissed her back, going to wrap his arms around her before he felt somebody grab him by the hair and rip him away from Yoruichi's lascivious hands. He felt the same hand, now balled into a fist; connect with his cheek. Grimmjow whipped around in a drunken rage, seeing a flash of orange hair.

"Kurosaki, what the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?"


	9. IX

Ichigo stumbled backwards, liquor slowing his motor abilities. His fist was still balled in an offensive position, warmed up and ready to go.

"And what do _you_ think _you're_ doing, kissing someone other than Orihime?" slurred Ichigo, eyebrow cocked. "I knew you were shit, Grimmjow."

Grimmjow's eyes were wide with irate incredulity, before a maniacal grin spread across his face, and he began guffawing.

"I was hoping you'd give me a reason to beat the shit out of you!" he said, cracking his knuckles. "I've always hated you, Kurosaki."

Around them, partygoers began to discern the emergent tension in the room, someone chanting "_fight_!" repetitively until it became a communal vocal. The two men circled each other like a pair of vultures over carrion until Grimmjow threw the first punch, which Ichigo just barely sidestepped, the side of Grimmjow's knuckle grazing his cheek. Though, with Ichigo's head going in the other direction, it unavoidably met with Grimmjow's other fist, head-on. His punch sent Ichigo sprawling backwards, into Nnoitra, who bounced him back into the imaginary fighting ring with ease.

"Come on, Ichigo!" shouted Sado from the sidelines. Rukia and Uryu also stood there, yelling reinforcement at him.

The two continued to throw punches at one another, both men being fairly bruised up. Grimmjow's smirk remained throughout the duel, until Ichigo hit him right in the gut, sending him down to the ground. The crowd of people booed loudly until the bluenette sprung back onto two feet. People cheered as he regained his posture.

"C'mon Kurosaki, I dare you to hit me again!" he spat, blood trickling from his nose. "I _triple-fucking-doggy-dare_ you!"

* * *

In the other room, Orihime waited for a while, watching the other occupants of the kitchen come and go. She finished her drink and checked the clock on her phone; at least 15 minutes had passed. She sighed, sitting down on the stool she had pulled from underneath the countertop. She figured at this point she would go and look for Grimmjow. She was hesitant at first, not knowing very many people in the roomy frat house, but she had gotten tired of waiting. Stepping out of the kitchen, she heard a commotion down the hall. The loud noises weren't new, in fact, she was sure her hearing would be fuzzy in the morning after such a rowdy party. Coming around the corner, she struggled to see over the mass of people crowding the room. From what people were shouting, it seemed like someone was… fighting. Curious, she pushed through the thick, sweaty throng of people. The impenetrable scent of alcohol almost floored her, she wasn't sure if it was the atmosphere or the drink that gave her the buzz. Finally cutting through the mass of young adults, she was surprised – to some extent – to see who was duking it out.

"Ichigo? Grimmjow?" she said in confusion, her voice lost in the uproar. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

Grimmjow's ears perked up to her curse, head turning to see Orihime. Ichigo took this as an opportunity to strike his obviously beefier opponent, cricking his neck. Grimmjow shook it off, touching his face as if he were unsure the punch had really happened. Ichigo threw another punch, to which Grimmjow responded to by moving slightly. He avoided the ginger's punch while still moving forward, in one fluid motion. His arm pulled back before nailing Ichigo, hard in the jaw. It cracked softly under the pressure of his fist, sending him staggering backwards.

Ichigo roared, infuriated. He charged forward, to which his blue-haired opponent chuckled at. He extended his fist fully, confident in his punch, but to his surprise, Ichigo shifted his weight at the last second. He moved around the messy flurry of punches before punching Grimmjow, hitting him in the solar plexus. Grimmjow halted, bending over in pain, obviously winded. Ichigo kneed him in the jaw, making Grimmjow fold in on himself.

"Hey, Grimmjow," called Nnoitra over the crowd, "Stop being a pussy and kick this guy's ass so I don't have to."

Grimmjow slowly but surely regained his posture, growling wrathfully. Ichigo shook off the pain, smirking victoriously.

"Yo, that's it," growled Grimmjow, "You're gonna die, got that? Here and now."

"Okay there, big guy," taunted Ichigo. "Come at me."

Grimmjow roared as he rushed at Ichigo, hitting him square in the jaw once more. Ichigo could taste blood, and wondered vaguely if he had lost a tooth. He reeled back.

Orihime stepped out to interfere and mediate, but she felt someone grasp her arm.

"Hey, girl, can't let ya do that," said Nnoitra, not taking his eyes off the fight. "You gotta let Grimmjow finish this; otherwise he'll lose it on ya. No matter how fuckin' special you are."

Orihime grumbled, before shaking him off. She stepped out into the fray, watching the two boys at battle, who paid no attention to her.

"Ichigo, Grimmjo-!"

Ichigo nailed Grimmjow with a right hook, sending him flying sideways. Unfortunately, this meant he ended up knocking skulls with Orihime. Grimmjow fell right into Orihime's face, sending her back into Nnoitra.

"FUCK!" she cried, grasping at her nose desperately. If anyone had been sober, they would've been shocked to hear such a curse word in Orihime's delicate voice. She pushed through the crowd, back towards the hallway. People remained engrossed in the ongoing fight, paying no mind to her. She looked down at her hands, which were now covered in blood. Frowning as she walked upstairs to the bathroom, she silently hoped her nose wasn't broken.

In the dark hallway, she searched for the bathroom, cursing Ichigo and Grimmjow's stupidity, and their immaturity. Her nose throbbed; Orihime thanked the alcohol she had consumed. This would hurt a lot more tomorrow morning.

With one hand fumbling around with the doorknob and the other plugging her nose, she opened the door to the bathroom. Behind the door were Keigo and that green haired girl he had been chatting up earlier, although, she looked a lot different with her lips glued to Keigo's. It took a second, but when she realized that the door had been opened, the girl screamed. She pulled away from Keigo, and with evident thought and hesitation, she slapped him before rushing out of the bathroom. Keigo looked confused for a moment.

"God damnit," said Keigo, shuffling his feet, before fully noticing Orihime. "Shit, what happened to your face?!"

"Just a little accident," she muttered, "Do you mind?"

Keigo nodded and made way for her in the bathroom, leaving the door slightly open behind him. Orihime first started by washing her hands. She wiped away the blood on her face with dampened tissue paper, tossed it in the trash bin, and then grabbed some dry tissues. She twisted them up into cotton spires and deftly stuck them in her nostrils. Mid-way through putting the last one in her nose, the door opened again.

"What are you doing here?"

Ulquiorra stood in the frame of the door, wearing nothing but a loose pair of pyjama pants. Orihime was surprised to see him above anything, but felt heat rising in her face – and it wasn't the alcohol.

"And what are you stuffing into your nose?"

Orihime brought a hand up to her head, scratching her scalp as she searched for the right words.

"Well, er, I was invited to this party, and I, um, walked into a wall," she said, embarrassed. "Now I'm trying to patch up my nose, I guess."

Ulquiorra moved closer to her, closing the door behind him.

"You're making a mess up here, and wasting tissue paper," he said blankly, before reaching out to her. "Let me fix it. You look horrible."

Orihime blanched slightly at his comment. He bent, pulled a dark cloth from the cabinet beneath the sink, and dampened it. He wiped around her nose gently, before placing it in the laundry hamper. He tilted her chin for a closer inspection.

"I didn't think you went to parties," she spoke.

"I don't."

"Well, what are you doing here?"

"I live here."

A light went off in Orihime's head. Shock spread across her face, and understanding flashed in her eyes.

"So this is your frat house?" she asked warily. Ulquiorra paid no mind to what she was saying as he pinched the bridge of her nose. "Who else is in your fraternity?"

He finished inspecting her face, and gently tilted her chin upwards so she was at eye-level with him. Pink tinged her cheeks.

"Nnoitra Gilga, Szayelapporo Granz, Coyote Starrk, and –"

Suddenly, the door flew open. An irate, bloody Grimmjow stood in the doorway, holding his own nose.

"What the _fuck_ is going on in here?"


	10. X

hello, big thanks to everyone who's stuck it out with this story. this is officially the longest running story i've gotten to writing without quitting/procrastinating a buttload/completely revamping! woo-hoo! anyways, in order to keep up this magnificent habit, i've learned to write shorter chapters that i can edit and revel in without getting bored/distracted/etc. so you'll just have to bear with me and my 1300 word chapters ^.^ i'm trying to update more frequently with less of a gap (like i've done today... two in one) since i know that when school really picks up this story will be left in the dust for quite some time. anyways, you didn't come here to listen to me ramble... this is the final chapter of the _infamous frat party_! enjoy c:

* * *

"Nothing."

Ulquiorra stared vacuously back at Grimmjow, his cool green eyes unreadable.

"Bullshit! What's going on in here?"

"I simply came in to wash up before bed, and found Orihime with a bloody nose."

Grimmjow staggered in his drunk, perceptibly battered state. Blood stained his teeth darkly. Orihime became visibly anxious at the terrible sight of him. Blood ran from a gash on his brow bone into his hair, clashing impudently with his bright turquoise quaff.

"Grimmjow, you're seriously hurt – I think you should sit down and drink some water, or something!" she squealed, going to help him.

"Orihime, what's he doin' to you?" asked Grimmjow, his tone softening. His eyes darted back to his pale housemate, looking feral. His arduous demeanor returned for the comeback. "Yo, you keep yer hands off her! How do you two know each other?"

"We went on a date once." Ulquiorra said plainly. Orihime paled at this unforgivingly coincidental situation. Flustered, she felt restless, and with nothing to do, she went to help Grimmjow.

"Here, just sit down on the toilet seat so I can clean you up," Orihime began apprehensively, before he lashed out at Ulquiorra.

"You smug little fuck!" snarled Grimmjow, who was antsy again. "Those girls at Hot Topic just weren't enough for you, huh? Ya had to go after my girl instead?"

"You're clearly overintoxicated. If you don't settle down, you'll make yourself sick." said Ulquiorra. "How trashy."

"Orihime, you can't be serious about this guy," said Grimmjow, flying off the handle. "Just fuckin' look at him! He's whiter than Vanilla Ice!"

"I have no idea who Vanilla Ice is, yet somehow, I find that an unreasonable comparison."

"You were wheelin' me the whole time! I can't believe this; I got played like some freshman chick after her first kegger! This is fuckin' embarrassing!"

"Now, don't upset yourself, Grimmjow."

"Don't you talk to me, you skinny jean wearing fuck! You were dating Orihime the whole time and you never had any marital decency to tell me?"

"I believe the word you're looking for is 'moral', Grimmjow. Only in hell would we be joined by marriage. On that note, I was in the dark, just as you were."

Orihime stood in the middle of the two men who argued amongst themselves, feeling overwhelmed. She had the thought to duck out now while she could, until Grimmjow's drunken emotional rollercoaster looped back to rage.\

"Ya know what, Ulquiorra? I've never liked ya. Never. And now you're really pissin' me off." he said, winding up for a punch. "Let's settle this right now, like men!"

"I think you've had enough for one night, Grimmjow."

"And I've had enough of this conversation! Orihime, I hope ya got your fill of this guy, 'cause he's not gonna be able to use what's below the waist when I'm done with him. I'm gonna break yer fuckin' legs off, man."

"Stop it you two!" cried Orihime, who had already witnessed her fill of fighting for one night.

She watched Grimmjow's arm wind up for the punch, and felt the air rush past her face. Her eyes tightly sealed, she heard a sickening thud. Opening her eyes slowly, she found Ulquiorra was still in her line of vision. Confused, she looked to the floor, where an unconscious Grimmjow lay. He appeared to be sleeping like a baby.

"What did you do?!" she asked, incredulous.

"It was past his bedtime."

Ulquiorra bent, picked up the much larger man, to Orihime's surprise, with ease. She followed him out of the bathroom and into the hall. Ulquiorra dipped in through a door, tossed the big lug onto a bed, and closed the door.

He turned away from the doorway, and looked to Orihime, silent. She stared at him for a moment, before feeling some amount of shame. She shuffled her feet.

"I suppose you'd want an explanation," she said, her cheeks red. "And I'd give you one if I knew what to say."

"From what I gather, I will assume you had no idea Grimmjow and I knew each other in any way."

"Well, yes," she began, but started to feel even more guilty. "Well, no! That sounds bad. I mean, I'm not the type to date guys. Wait, no! I meant I'm not the type to date a lot of guys at once. I'm not that kind of girl! I, ah, was testing the waters. Oh, no, that sounds bad too."

"You're rambling."

"Um, yeah! Okay. What I'm trying to say is that I was just getting to know you guys at the same time and they both happened to turn into something more. And then you both happened to know each other. And then you both happened to be here tonight. Wow, I suck at this…"

"Yes, that's correct, for lack of a better word. I'll give you time to think about it. I believe I know what you're saying, regardless. This is just a largely uncalculated misunderstanding."

"That's exactly it!" said Orihime, slamming her fist down into her other palm. "Look, I –"

Orihime was near the end of her run-on explanation, before she saw Uryu come up the stairs into the hallway. He looked vexed and dirty, reminiscent of a new stay-at-home mother, or an overworked babysitter. Something that resembled vomit stained his normally clean pressed white button-down.

"Orihime, there you are." he said, pushing up his glasses. He paid no mind to the conversation he interrupted, sighing deeply. "We've gotta go. The cab's here and everything. Rukia's throwing up, Ichigo's near dead; Keigo's too drunk to walk. Sado seems to be the only coherent one. This point would be as good as any to clear out."

Orihime looked apologetically to Ulquiorra, who remained inexpressive, as usual.

"I agree. I'm looking to have everyone out of the house soon, anyway. Parties are rather disruptive of my sleep schedule, and I do not normally approve of them." he said, before turning towards his bedroom. "Have a good night, Orihime. Take care of your friends. Try not to run into any more walls." With that, he disappeared into the darkness, the door slamming behind him.

Orihime stared at the spot where he once was before she felt Uryu tug on her arm. She took it as a fervent cue to leave. They hurried down the stairs, only to find Rukia with her head in a plastic bowl – which Sado was holding underneath of her head – and Ichigo leaning on Keigo, both apparently down for the count.

"Hey, thanks for coming," mumbled Starrk, who was leaning against the wall, looking sleepy. He yawned. "And for leaving."

Uryu held Rukia and her bowl, while Sado handled the two guys on either arm. Orihime led the way out to the taxi, where the reluctant cab driver made a face at their drunken companions. Orihime gave the man the address, and sunk into the seats of the car. She checked the time on her phone, which read 2:16AM. It wasn't particularly late, but Orihime felt exhausted, and she was sure she wasn't the only one. The way from the frat house, to the cab, to the apartment was a complete blur.

The moment they entered the apartment, everyone had found a place to pass out, without bothering to change their clothes and wash up for bed. Orihime welcomed sleep after such an eventful night, drifting off without even having gotten under the covers.


	11. XI

thank you so much to everyone who has been actively supporting this story. couldn't have done it without all of you! i hate to self-plug on one of these little author's notes, but lately i've been working on two different bleach AU's - one's a police-central story and the other is a satire of most (all) slasher/horror films starring our favourite bleach characters. i'm not too sure which one to post/continue working on, but i'm churning something out! again, thanks to everyone. much love ^.^

* * *

An alarm clock let out several tentative peeps, which quickly grew into an obnoxious symphony of bleeping, waking the two girls that slept soundly in the room. Tatsuki, the only one who made the astute decision against the party, woke with regular ease, pulling herself out of bed to begin her morning routine before work. Conversely, the other girl in the room was not so easily woken. Orihime stirred agonisingly before rolling over again, pulling a pillow over her face. Her movements were inflexible, and she realized she had not changed from the night before. She moaned, and Tatsuki smirked at the incapacitated girl.

"You're lucky you didn't have to work the open shift today," she spoke softly, chuckling at Orihime. Orihime did not reply, instead curling up even tighter, a low whimper coming from underneath the pillow. "Hopefully you'll be feeling better by the time I'm home."

Again, Orihime remained hushed, half-asleep, and painfully hungover more than anything. She heard the quiet click of the door closing, and assumed that Tatsuki had gone. Some time had passed before Orihime understood that she would not be falling asleep again anytime soon. Rolling over, the morning light was punitive and unforgiving, clawing at her puffy eyelids. Orihime was the first to rise and walk into the living area.

With a nasty headache and a churning stomach, and with her eyes opened under duress, she gathered that everybody else – besides Ichigo, Rukia and Keigo – had cleared out at some point in the wee hours of the morning. She moved a bit more, but her bones ached. Rukia had fallen asleep using Ichigo as some sort of body pillow, in a rather suggestive manner. Keigo slept in an armchair, a plastic bowl filled with what appeared to be vomit sitting at his feet. Orihime wilted in contact with the light, and closed the curtains on the dreadful sun, feeling as if she would collapse and die at any minute now.

She smacked herself hard on the forehead for drinking so much, and then immediately regretted it, when everything hurt even worse afterwards. Her nose throbbed severely, and Orihime remembered the embarrassing interaction she and Grimmjow's heads had made. Looking into the mirror, the bridge of her nose was splotchy and dark, unmistakably bruised even in the dim light. She turned around again, to an unexpected rustle that broke the silence. Keigo stirred gently, eyes fluttering open for a millisecond before squeezing shut again, with an aggrieved sort of expression on his face. He sat up from his lolled position, eyes still closed.

"Are you okay?" asked Orihime.

He shook his head slowly, his skin an insipid, sallow color, before his shoulders heaved. He leaned over suddenly, vomiting into the already grubby dish beneath him. Orihime cringed, before trudging over to the kitchen and retrieving Keigo a glass of water. He accepted it appreciatively, gulping it down. Orihime took the glass back, looking for a place to set it down.

"Ouch!" she said loudly, stubbing her toe into the base of the coffee table. Keigo smirked, before rubbing his eyes.

"Hell, I can't remember a thing."

"Me neither," came a voice, muffled by pillows. Ichigo roused stiffly, groaning and sniffling. "I feel like I got hit by a truck."

"That's an understatement," said Rukia, who was now awake. She sat up and scooted off Ichigo's body, rubbing her temples. "You guys need to shut up, you're too loud."

"Stop yelling," hissed Ichigo, even though everybody was being considerably quiet. Abruptly, Rukia rushed off the couch, down the hall and into the bathroom. Following the slam of a door, the unambiguous noise of somebody being sick resounded throughout the reasonably silent flat, followed by the lulled rush of water.

"Gross," said Keigo. Ichigo raised his eyebrows, settling into the couch.

"Says you," he muttered. "Might as well throw that bowl out at this point."

Keigo looked over to Ichigo with half-lidded eyes, before they widened in shock.

"Dude, what the fuck happened to your face?"

Ichigo looked at him quizzically, before the painful realization set in, and his headache was no longer the only thing bothering him. His whole face began to throb. He stood, groping around, still half-asleep. Walking over to the mirror where Orihime had examined her injury, he found his face looking like he truly was hit by a truck. The skin around his eyes was black and blue, not particularly swollen but discoloured nonetheless. Scraped adorned his cheeks, and a dark bruise sat upon his forehead. To top it all off, his lip was split, right down the middle.

It all came back to him now; the fight with Grimmjow. He got his ass kicked. But more importantly, _why_ he got his ass kicked by Grimmjow. An obvious tension fell over the room, mostly between Ichigo and Orihime.

"Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez," he sighed, "That's what happened."

"Damn, man, I'd imagine he looks just as bad as you. Sounds like a pretty even fight, eh, Orihime?" queried Keigo, who got no response. "Wonder who I'd vote for in your situation. Wish I could remember the fight…"

"It was pretty even," said Ichigo, who got a look from Orihime. She almost scowled at him; it was clear that she still berated him for fighting. "And yeah, dude. I don't remember you cheering me on. Where'd you disappear off to?"

"If only I could remember…"

Orihime felt a slight flush rise to her face when more memories returned to her – Keigo. Bathroom. That pretty green haired girl. As if it were on cue, Keigo's phone vibrated with a Facebook notification. Opening it up and scrolling on the screen of his smartphone, a mist of confusion fell across his face.

"Who the hell is Pesche Guatiche, and why am I tagged in one of his photos with…" he trailed off for a moment, before mild astonishment overcame him. "This _hot-as-fuck_ girl?"

"What?" asked Ichigo, extending his hand towards the now-smug Keigo. "Let me be the judge of that."

Retrieving the phone from Keigo's hand, he looked at it before laughing aloud.

"Oh, God, no," he cackled, "Nel cannot be serious."

"What? Who's Nel?"

"The girl in this photo," said Ichigo, "You better watch yourself man."

"What?!"

"Her boyfriend is not gonna be happy about this once it's under his nose – which it will be by the time he wakes up," he replied. "He's a psychopath."

A look of terror spread across Keigo's face as he took his phone back and looked at the picture once more. The girl – Nel – was leaning on Keigo in a suggestive manner, holding his chin with delicate fingers. Keigo, who was visibly sloshed, looked back at her with bedroom eyes. He blanched as the memory came back to him. Ichigo began laughing again as Keigo asked a throttle of questions, clearly worried. After a short while, another oncoming migraine shut Ichigo up, and left the group in silence again.

Orihime sat down next to Ichigo, leaning back into the sofa cushions. She closed her eyes for a moment, until Keigo began speaking again.

"Yo, I'd better get going. I have my LSAT to study for," he said quietly, picking himself up from the armchair. He picked up the foul bowl. "I'll just go throw this out?"

Orihime nodded. Keigo slipped on his shoes and made sure he had all his things in his pocket.

"Watch your back," said Ichigo jokingly, to which Keigo glowered.

"Tell Rukia I said bye," he said, opening the door. Light poured in from the hallway, to which all three young adults reacted to by squinting painfully. "See you guys later."

With that, they were left in the darkness again. They sat in silence for a long time, drifting in and out of sleep.

"Why did you do that?" asked Orihime, finally.

"Do what?" he replied. Ichigo didn't need to see Orihime to know his absent mind was not appreciated. "Okay, look. Orihime…"

"I was really hoping you and Grimmjow would've left all of that stupid drama behind when we started going out, Ichigo…"

"That's not it at all, Orihime," he stuttered, his mind still fuzzy. "It's just –"

"Just what?"

Ichigo sighed deeply, and Orihime stared, waiting on his response. He turned to face her, his expression even more staid by the hand of his injuries.

"I saw him kissing another girl."

Orihime felt dazed for a moment.

"What?"

"He was kissing another girl. That's why I hit him."

"Who?" she asked, still not quite settling in on the truth.

"I don't know who," he replied. "All I'm saying is that's what I saw, and that's why I hit him. Me being drunk, I thought it would be a good idea."

Orihime sat silently, hurt and confused. She stared down into her lap.

"Look, Orihime," said Ichigo, softly. He took her hand gently. "I love you. And believe me when I say there are better guys out there than Grimmjow. They're not hard to find – especially when you're as special as you are. He doesn't know the value of girls like you, and you shouldn't give him the chance to. Not after this."

Their intimate moment was interrupted by more sickly noises carrying from the bathroom. Ichigo glanced out to the hall in too swift of a motion, cricking his neck. He winced at the pain he brought on himself the night before.

"I'd better go check on Rukia." he said, letting go of her.

With that, he left her alone in the silence of her thoughts. On the topic of Grimmjow, she furrowed her brows, thinking back to last night – the awkward encounter with Ulquiorra. Wriggling in her seat, she struggled to pull her phone out of her pocket. In her hands, she played with it, trying to decide her course of action. As her hurt turned into anger directed at Grimmjow, she typed in the message box, and addressed it to both Grimmjow and Ulquiorra.

_We should talk._

* * *

Grimmjow felt his mind slowly reach reality as he drifted out of his sleep. He tried his hardest to cling to the doze that he was once in, his head pounded resentfully. The sun pinched at his eyelids, he was unable to sleep any longer. He grudgingly opened his eyes a crack, his headache becoming excruciatingly clear. He admitted defeat to morning light and squirmed around in the sheets of the bed, his head screeched in agony. Draco closed his eyes again; his head hurt, his mouth was dry and foul-tasting, and – where was he? He had no recollection of the night before, where he was, what he was doing, or who he was with.

He fidgeted around again on spot and licked his dry, cracked lips – they tasted of an abominable, potent mixture of vodka, boggy whiskey and bad tobacco. He opened his eyes again, only to slits, when he remembered it _all_. Nnoitra's birthday party. Hot girls, decent drinks, and way too many shots. Orihime and her friends, that crazy bitch Cirucci, Nel's sorority sisters, him and Nnoitra's old football buddies... too many people to count. When he got out of bed, he became painfully aware of his fight with Kurosaki. His body had never felt so worn out before, not even after playoffs. He struggled to breathe through his nose, dried blood caking his nostrils and just below.

"Fuck!" he swore loudly, stubbing his toe into the wall after losing his footing over a couple of beer bottles.

Trudging over to the bathroom, Grimmjow looked in the mirror. Muttering a curse, he took note of how much of a mess he truly was. Blood ran from the broken skin of his brow into his hairline, just above a garish black eye. His trademark quaff of blue hair fell flat and matted against his head. Somebody's phone was on the counter in the bathroom, which Grimmjow used to check the time. Being so early in the morning, he wondered how many people would still be hanging around. Vision finally focusing in the mirror and adjusting to his surroundings, he could pinpoint one person who hadn't quite cleared out yet.

"Yo, Ggio," said Grimmjow, in a gruff voice. "Get the fuck out of the bathtub."

The black-haired boy in the tub barely stirred at all, snoring away. He held what looked like an empty bottle of wine close to his body. Grimmjow decided against trying any harder to wake him up, turning the light out and stepping out of the washroom. With someone's missing phone on the brain, he thought to his own, which no longer clung to himself tightly in his pocket. He crept down the stairs in search of it, his head aching more sorely as he noticed music was still playing somewhere in the house. Reaching the final step, he traced the sound into the living room.

He attempted to walk over and shut the music off, but he tripped over the leg of the sofa in his disorientation. He fell on the ground on the other side of the couch with a painful _thud, _and sat up quickly, cricking his neck. He turned to see Szayelapporo – who looked haughty even while asleep – reclined in the middle of the couch, with girls sleeping peacefully, all over him. Grimmjow got up quickly, almost tripping over the sleeping form of Cyan Sung-Sun at the foot of the couch. Both surprised and proud, the bluenette told himself he'd have to hi-five the pink-haired man when he awoke. He almost went for his phone to take a picture, before remembering it was missing. He frowned and looked around for the home receiver, which was lying on the floor. He picked it up and began dialing, hoping he left his phone on ringer.

From what Grimmjow had already seen, the house was a disaster. Bottles and cans littered every corner, ash from cigarettes and other unmentionable hand-rolls lay upon the coffee table like frost on grass. He wandered around, repeatedly calling until he caught the gentle hum of his ringtone. It was quiet at first, until he followed the noise into the dining space. The noise resounded again, and Grimmjow found it hard to believe that the dining room was an even worse mess than the living room. Red plastic cups carpeted the floor, and Grimmjow wasn't sure where the stains started on the floor rug and where the pattern began. He grinned to himself, satisfied at the thought of having thrown such a swell party.

An impractical, pink sequined bra hung from the light fixture in the middle of the room, right above Tesla, who slept soundly in the middle of the dining table. His peaceful face differed with the word 'ASSHOLE', which had been printed clearly on his forehead in thick black penmanship. Grimmjow laughed as he called his phone again, hoping it would reveal itself amongst the mess. He waited a moment, before the sound rung out again. He looked around a bit, before realizing the true source of the sound. The light from the screen of his phone shone through the front of Tesla's thin slacks. It took Grimmjow a moment to fully register the fact that his phone had somehow fallen down Tesla's pants.

"What. The. Fuck." he muttered to himself, before bracing himself.

It was no big deal.

_Just another man's junk._

Grimmjow scowled to himself; this was no time for his own conscience to be disparaging him. He took a deep breath, stepped towards Tesla's sleeping figure, and reached in. His hand closed firmly around the rectangular frame of his phone, and just as he was about to remove it, Tesla's eyes opened. They stared at each other in alarmed revulsion silently before Tesla burst.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" he yelled, writhing and kicking. Grimmjow confiscated his phone quickly, wiping both his phone and his hand on his pants.

"What the hell are _you_ doing with my fuckin' phone down your pants?" he spat. "Fuckin' sicko."

Tesla squirmed around again in sobriety before rolling off the table and smacking the ground with a noisy bump. Grimmjow began laughing, leaning over the table only to find that Tesla had knocked himself out once more.

Finally pocketing his phone, he wandered into the kitchen, ignoring the mess and opening the fridge. He pulled out a carton of orange juice, finishing it without the civility of a glass. Throwing the empty carton in with the rest of the mess, he wandered back upstairs, looking to rest until mostly everyone had cleared out of the house.

At the top of the stairs was Ulquiorra, fully dressed and ready for the day, to whom Grimmjow glared at in reference to Orihime.

"You sure are up early," said Grimmjow bitterly, walking right past him.

"Kurosaki certainly did a number on you." said Ulquiorra, unchanged. Grimmjow stopped in his tracks.

"If anything he looks worse than this, that pussy," said Grimmjow. "And that wasn't just drunk shit talk, y'know. You'd better stay away from Orihime if you know what's good for ya, Ulquiorra."

"Everything out of your mouth is 'shit talk', Grimmjow. For lack of a better term."

"Cocksucker," muttered Grimmjow under his breath, who opened the door to his bedroom.

"I find that insult a little hard to place upon me, Grimmjow," said Ulquiorra, who sounded like he was on the edge of a simper. "Especially if Orihime prefers me to you."

Grimmjow turned around, fist ready to injure. Ulquiorra caught it mid-assault, holding it firmly.

"I swear to God, Ulquiorra, one day I'm gonna kick your ass so hard you won't be able to shit for weeks," growled Grimmjow, jerking his fist from Ulquiorra's grip. In that moment, a simultaneous beep resounded from both of the men's phones. Relinquishing the tension they were holding onto, they both opened the text message they had received.

Orihime.

Both men looked up at once, as if their actions were choreographed. Wide blue eyes met green.


	12. XII

sorry to keep everyone waiting for so long after such rapid updates! i've honestly been battling writer's block head on for the longest while - i have so many ideas for current as well as new stories, but i just can't seem to get them out. hopefully this chapter suffices - sorry about it being so short! if you have any requests or ideas for both new stories and current ones, please, don't hesitate to let me know in a review or PM. thanks babes and enjoy!

* * *

The coffee shop was empty, besides the barista behind the counter, himself and the ginger-haired girl across from him. He sighed, running a hand through his tousled blue quaff. Shifting in his seat, he looked to the woman sitting across from him. Grimmjow watched intently, waiting for her to speak up. He was slightly uncomfortable; he was quite aware of the negative connotation '_we need to talk'_ held. However, it was hardly his move, so he waited patiently in silence. Orihime continued to look down into her lap, searching for the right words to begin on. She folded her hands together before attempting to conceal a shaky intake of breath, and looked across the table, where her brown eyes met shocking cerulean. He took this as his moment to flip the switch on this conversation.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asked smoothly, reclining slightly. Orihime continued to search for the correct words, and Grimmjow attempted to quell his diminishing patience. "C'mon, what's bothering you?"

"Well, I know that you and Ichigo aren't particularly close," she began, to which Grimmjow scoffed at under his breath – that was an understatement. "And I wasn't comfortable with the idea of you two fighting."

"Hey, I'm really sorry about it. I'm already paying the price for it with this damned black eye," he muttered, though he could tell Orihime was avoiding whatever topic she had on the front burner. "You sure that's it, though?"

Orihime rubbed the back of her neck meekly, unsure of how to go about what was bothering her. She murmured something to herself, looking down into her lap.

"Orihime?" he asked, to which Orihime burst.

"Ichigo told me he saw you kissing another girl!"

Grimmjow sucked in a sharp breath, and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Look, Orihime –"

"It's true, isn't it?" she asked, frustrated, even though she was sure Ichigo would never make something like that up. "That's why he started beating on you."

"He was _not_ beating on me," replied Grimmjow, through a tight jaw. Orihime stared daggers at him, visibly hurt. He avoided her gaze.

"Don't avoid the topic," she said icily, "Who was it?"

"That's not important," he replied. She scowled at him again, wheedling the truth out of him. "An ex-girlfriend. A mistake, okay? It didn't mean anything."

"You never told me about any ex-girlfriend," she murmured.

"I didn't think it was important," he said, obstinate now. "Because it's not. I like you."

"If you liked me so much," she frowned, uncrossing and recrossing her legs under the table, "then I don't think you would be kissing your exes."

He sighed, crossing his arms. He held back the daub of anger that threatened to pollute his calm demeanor; he didn't want to upset her any more than he already had. The antagonism was directed at himself more so than towards Orihime, anyhow. "I was wasted. We used to be really serious, and she dumped me for some other guy," he admitted, looking down into the nook of his folded arms. "She just kinda showed up last night and I wasn't thinking straight. It was just a kiss, nothing else."

She let out a huffy breath and tossed her long auburn hair over her shoulder, immediately drawing it back to run her hands over while she thought. "So you asked me out when you weren't over your ex-girlfriend?" She stuffed her two hands in between her thighs, which were tightly pressed together in her chair, legs uncrossed. She avoided his saltwater gaze, distressed.

"I didn't know what I wanted when I asked you out," he said, fumbling around for the correct words. "You sped into my fucking car. If you weren't as hot as you are, I would've given you shit about my bumper."

"So you only asked me out because I was hot?" she asked, brows knit together. "Was I just… some kind of… conquest to you?"

"Fuck, no!" he rambled, his sudden elevation in volume startling the barista. "Shit, that's not what I meant. Well, yeah, it kinda is – I only asked you out because you were hot. And then I got to know you, and you were pretty cool, and nice, and y'know. I liked you. I _like_ you."

For a moment their eyes met and her face was completely exposed, vulnerable. Then she looked away, back down into her lap to assess the predicament, and a shadow of regret flickered across his features before he expelled it.

"I'm sorry, Orihime. For real."

"I just…" she trailed off, tightening her lips. "I need some time."

Grimmjow nearly cursed aloud, however, he held in his brash mouth with a sharp inhale, nodding gently.

"Take all the time you need," he said, his voice sounding uncharacteristically placid. "Thanks."

"You're not forgiven yet," she said, looking at him firmly. "I like you, Grimmjow, but I won't be played. No more ex-girlfriends, and no more throwing punches."

"Got it," he said, looking reassuringly into her eyes, which were still mistrustful. Orihime seemed to relax for a moment, before glancing down at her phone briefly. "Oh, no, I lost track of the time."

"Where are you going? I can give you a ride if you need," he offered. Orihime shook her head, getting out of her seat.

"I'm going to meet Ulquiorra for lunch and to study," she replied, her facial expression softening. Grimmjow bit down on his tongue, _hard_. "It's just down the road. I'll see you around, Grimmjow."

With that, she turned, her short, pleated skirt flowing with her movement mockingly. Grimmjow stiffened, staring after her as she left.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, just following the ding of the door signaling her exit. The barista gave a sideways glance in his direction. "What are you looking at?"

The barista disappeared behind the large espresso machine, avoiding Grimmjow's feral glare. He growled to himself. Ulquiorra didn't _deserve_ Orihime – and Ulquiorra wouldn't _get_ Orihime. He'd make sure of it.


End file.
